


Belle Morte

by faikitty



Category: Karneval
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should never be Akari who is injured like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a sort of companion piece for a friend's work.
> 
> I'm publishing this on October 26, 2014, but it was written on the date given above. Almost a year and a half ago, Jesus... It remains one of my favorites, and one of my most popular works as well.

Hirato had never realized how much more frightening it can be to be the one left waiting at home instead of the one leading the charge. It’s strange, strange that  _he_  isn’t the one lying here on the metal operating table. _He_  should be the one with his body ripped open, all crimson blood and stark white nerves. _He_  should be the one skirting the edge of death and coming closer with each agonizingly slow second.

It should never have been Akari.

* * *

 

The two shared a quick parting kiss, chaste and nothing special, neither thinking this quick trip would be anything but ordinary. Some vague, teasing words were all that came from Hirato; no “see you soon,” no “get back safely.” Akari’s response was to scoff and roll his eyes; no “be back soon,” no “I’ll miss you.”

It was not an ordinary trip.

 No matter how overprotective Circus, not to mention Hirato, is of Akari, not even they can keep him safe from such unexpected disasters. A bomb planted in the worksite Akari was going to wasn’t discovered until one of the doctor’s assistant’s feet was on it. Akari didn’t have time to blink before the blast knocked him unconscious, good fortune keeping his limbs intact, and only sheer luck saved him from being killed by the explosion or debris as most of his assistants were.

By the time the ship retrieved them, it was too late.

* * *

 

Hirato is aware he shouldn’t watch the surgery, but something in the back of his mind whispers incessantly that the moment he takes his eyes off Akari is the moment his heart will stop. Someone as high ranking as the captain can’t be barred from watching the operation, but not even he is permitted inside the room. He isn’t sure he wants to be inside either; the stench of blood, urine, sterilized metal and sterilized gloves make a cocktail of nausea.

The worst part of it all is the knowledge that it isn’t the best of the best operating on Akari, because the unconscious man is the best physician they have.

It almost comes as a surprise when Akari is released from surgery without dying in the middle. Only once did his heart fail, and only once did Hirato feel his own stop at the sight. A flashing light, a shout from a masked nurse, and a jolt of electricity only take up the span of five seconds, but those five seconds are something the captain wishes he never had to witness. Akari’s body convulses as the shock stops and resets his fluttering heart, and Hirato’s eyes close briefly. His head rests against the cool glass of the window as he realizes  _he_  wasn’t breathing either.

The doctor’s body hardly looks better in a hospital bed. An oxygen mask covers his face, the clear plastic occasionally misting with breath. The majority of his wounds are hidden by the white blanket, but there are still reddened burns on his face from the blast and black stitches on his head and neck from the debris. Tubes poke out from beneath the sheet; this one is to drain the blood from the pleural place, this one is the IV filled with nameless drugs, this one… Hirato doesn’t bother to remember the uses of all of them. All he cares is that they keep the man  _alive_. He always excuses himself from the room when the nurses come in to change Akari’s position, give him a dose of medicine, redress his wounds… As long as the injuries are hidden, the denial can remain in Hirato’s head that they aren’t as bad as they appeared when the doctor and his team were first rushed onto the ship.

The captain doesn’t stay by Akari’s side the entire time. He can’t, as much as he would like to. The fact remains that he is in charge of Airship Two, and with a leadership role comes certain responsibilities. But when he isn’t in meeting with the Round Table, its faceless figures curious and furious about the recent injury to their precious SSS ranked doctor, or having food stuffed down his throat by a worried Tsukitachi, he’s watching the doctor in hopes he’ll wake up.

It takes sixty hours before  _Hirato_  is finally forced to sleep. His mind shuts down on a blink, and he doesn’t dream. He simply sleeps, his head falling onto his chest and his hands crossed tightly in his lap.

* * *

 

“Hirato.” The voice that jars the man from his sleep is low and quiet—Tsukitachi, here to fetch his friend and fellow captain. “If you sleep here, you’ll be the one in surgery next from a broken spine.”

Hirato’s eyes open immediately despite his exhaustion, and they’re drawn to the bed like a magnet. No movement comes from Akari except the rise and fall of his chest, steady for the time being. The captain turns his gaze to Tsukitachi. “I’m fine. I’ve gone longer without sleep. I’m staying here.”

“But you were just—“ Tsukitachi crouches down and sets a hand on Hirato’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “You’re going to collapse soon if you don’t sleep. And I mean in a proper bed. Even if I have to lose one friend, I won’t lose two.” The instant the words come out of his mouth he knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

“I’m staying here,” Hirato repeats more forcefully. “You have no control over me, Tsukitachi, and we are  _not_  going to lose Akari.”

Tsukitachi tongues a sarcastic comeback and decides against antagonizing the other man in such a situation. “I  _am_  sorry, Hirato,” Tsukitachi says, unsure what he’s even apologizing for. It makes his stomach twist for Hirato to act so unlike himself. “If you don’t sleep soon though, I’m going to get one of the nurses to slip something into your coffee, and then I’ll drag you to your bed myself.”

The 1st ship’s captain leaves without another word exchanged between them, and Hirato’s eyes focus on the doctor again, his body supine and broken.

Hirato’s mind drifts with the machines as white noise in the background.

_Down the corridor into Akari’s office where he sees the doctor sitting peacefully surrounded by papers, a pen tapping his lips as he reads in quiet consideration._

_Farther down, Hirato’s room, the two men are sprawled out on the sheets of the bed with fingers spreading over skin and twining between hair. Akari presses into Hirato’s neck with a soft moan._

_In the hall, Hirato stands with an amused expression while Akari’s is far angrier. His whole body is stiff with anger; he always was prone to straightening his back when infuriated in an attempt to be more intimidating. For Hirato, it never had the desired effect._

_Never again._

“Hira…to…” The voice is crackly and dry, barely audible over the buzz of the machinery. “Crying… over my dead… body…?”

Hirato’s blood runs cold, and for a minute he thinks it’s just a sleep-deprived hallucination. But upon standing and leaning over Akari, he finds that the other man’s eyes are open, if only barely. It takes a few seconds before Hirato is collected enough from his shock to answer. “I believe I haven’t cried since the first five minutes after I was born. Why would you think that would change just for you?”

Akari’s mouth twists in what Hirato guesses is meant to be a smile. “’Cause you… love me,” he slurs. “You’d cry if I died.”

Hirato brushes a strand of hair from Akari’s forehead with his thumb. “I’m willing to let that one slide, only because you have so much morphine inside your veins.” His tone is wry but hints of relief creep through.

“I… love you too though… so it’s okay to admit it,” the doctor breathes. His body trembles with the effort of talking, and small whines of pain escape him with each breath.

“Enough.” Hirato kisses Akari’s forehead with more care than he has ever used before. “Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

Akari’s head lowers in the start of a nod, then his eyes close the last few centimeters and his breathing evens out again. When Hirato straightens up, a wave of exhaustion overtakes him, and telling the nurses Akari woke up only tires him out even more, to see them all rush into the room with such fervor. He finally takes Tsukitachi’s advice and goes to  _his_  room to sleep, passing out the moment his back hits the bed. Still, he keeps his promise to be by Akari’s side when he wakes again.

When all is said and done, Hirato thinks he prefers to be the one out getting injured in the field. It’s much less painful to endure physical wounds than to watch one’s lover do the same.


	2. Belle Morte (Extra)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much pleading, here's a followup. Don't think too much about it. Just enjoy the fluff that's so sweet it'll give you diabetes.

It’s enjoyable to watch Hirato sleep. Akari knows the captain rarely gets a chance to truly rest; he knows because he is the same. Lately, it’s been worse than usual. Recovery, particularly when one’s body is ripped to shreds as Akari’s was, is a long, extremely painful process. It’s odd, then, that Hirato is the one who has dark circles beneath his eyes. His attitude is the same as ever—shitty and manipulatively charming—but given how attentive the doctor is, he noticed Hirato’s eyes the moment he was finally alert after waking up after the incident.

It’s nice to finally be allowed out of the hospital bed, but it’s even nicer to be back in Hirato’s, not that Akari would ever say such a thing out loud. The best part of all is having the chance to once again feel Hirato’s warm hands on his body, stroking against his healing skin with careful fingers. The black haired man is almost frustratingly gentle in his touch, always retracting his hand the moment it comes into contact with a bandage or a jagged, still painful scar. Akari understands why he’s being so incredibly careful, and while a part of him is grateful, a larger part is tired of feeling like a doll.

Besides, the one who looks like a doll right now is Hirato, undeniably beautiful with his eyes closed and mouth barely opening with quiet breaths. He’s so much less annoying when he’s asleep, and Akari can almost believe in the innocent illusion he puts up so often. With soft moonlight falling over his cheek, he seems like a peaceful person. Akari smiles, feeling a bit like an owner watching his pet sleep, as he sees Hirato’s muscles twitch from a dream. The smile is gone a few seconds later when Hirato foot hits his thigh with a considerable amount of force, and Akari considers whether or not waking the dreaming man is the best action to take. He decides to only after seeing how Hirato’s mouth is downturned and his brows are knit together, whatever dream he’s having being an obviously unpleasant one.

Akari clears his throat and lowers himself by Hirato’s ear. “Wake up. You’ll kick me out of bed if you keep that up,” he says, and Hirato opens his eyes with a start. They focus on Akari’s face and he smirks, turning onto his side and running a finger along Akari’s jawbone.

“Now why would I ever want to do that?” he asks softly, propping himself up with his elbow so he can press his lips against Akari’s, but the blonde doesn’t return the kiss.

“Don’t ask me; you’re the one who kicked me. Simply being released from the hospital doesn’t mean I’m entirely healed, you know.” Akari watches Hirato warily as the other man frowns. “You aren’t normally such a violent sleeper.”

Hirato gives a one-sided smile. “True. Normally you’re the one who attempts to beat me while you sleep,” he admits.

“I do not,” Akari scoffs, appreciative of the darkness that covers his face. Hirato’s grin widens, and Akari flips away from him. Hirato’s arm winds over his waist and starts to tug him closer, but the moment Akari inadvertently lets out a whine of pain Hirato pulls his arm back. Akari sighs, knowing he shouldn’t feel guilty for something that isn’t his fault but unable to rid himself of the feeling. “…What were you dreaming about?”

Hirato presses his face against the back of the other man’s neck. “Hm. I wonder. I seem to have forgotten,” he murmurs, the feeling of his lips against Akari’s skin sending a shiver down the doctor’s spine.

Akari easily recognizes the lie for what it is and hesitates a moment before rolling back over so he and Hirato are face to face again. “We both know that’s not true,” he says bluntly.

The captain snorts, but when Akari doesn’t break their eye contact, the smirk he had been wearing fades. “What would you guess it was about?” he asks, turning onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling. “It was about you, naturally.” Akari opens his mouth, but Hirato continues talking. “You have such talented hands in my dreams. Well, of course, they’re talented in real life as well. But in dreams, you can use them so much better, not to mention how you work that smart tongue of yours.”

Akari sputters, his brain offering no worthwhile comeback to such a statement. “I was being serious!” he protests angrily. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. Keep joking about the things that bother you and they’ll eat you from the inside out. I have no interest in someone who doesn’t care about his own well-being.”

Hirato laughs quietly and closes his eyes, letting his arm rest over them. “It  _was_  about you, Akari. The dream,” he says softly. “It was about you dying. I wouldn’t think that would be so surprising, given recent events.” Akari’s angry expression softens, but he doesn’t speak. “That’s not to say I would cry over your dead body as you so fluently asked after waking up.”

Akari’s eyebrow twitches in irritation. “I’m not surprised, especially about the second part. It’s impressive, how you can be so very cold all the damn time.”

“No, if you were to die, there would be no tears. Not from me,” Hirato continues as if no interruption had occurred. “I would track down whoever killed you and rip them to pieces slowly with my bare hands. I would keep them alive as long as possible to torture them until all they dared to wish for was death.  _They_  would be the ones crying, not I. You mistake my not mourning for not caring, when I assure you, it’s quite the opposite.”

Akari blinks, somewhat taken back by what from Hirato is practically an outright expression of love. Unsure of what to say, the blonde props himself up on his elbow so he can lean forward and kiss Hirato gently, as careful as Hirato was with him earlier. The captain removes his arm from his face and opens his eyes, smiling against Akari’s lips. The doctor balks at the extended eye contact this time, pulling away and resting his head on Hirato’s chest. “I hate you,” he mutters, face flushed, and Hirato chuckles, his chest rumbling against Akari’s ear as he does so.

“It wouldn’t be right if you didn’t.”


End file.
